Jim’s Wife Died Last Night

by Tim J Brennan


in the meantime:

coffee brews, neighbor’s cat skits
across the back deck, tripping
past your shoes left
out last night—

a door closes,
another door closes

a tinge of dirty yellow
tops the tips of the ash trees
across the field, tells you September

astonished the leaves—

at least some
have fallen


Her Favorite Movie Is Edward Scissorhands


You ask what it feels like
to cut skin

and she answers as if
water is almost boiling—

                             oh, I have six hundred and three
                             scars, mostly beneath my clothes

and she rolls her sleeves to show maroon lines
that appear to be from a child’s coloring book
or a church’s stained glass window—

depicting a tale of a saintly woman
without a name

her flesh a headstone she was trying to etch
her own name into

                             something like that

she says matter-of-factly,
re-rolling sleeves & being normal again
until the next time she becomes naked
to someone

Tim J Brennan’s poetry can be found in many nice places including Twig, Up North, KAXE public radio, Volume One, Barstow & Grand, Talking Stick and Bright Light - Stories in the Night (League of MN Poets). Brennan’s one act plays have played across the USA, including nice stages in Milwaukee, Colorado Springs, Ypsilanti MI, Waxhaw NC, Taos NM, Chagrin Falls OH, and Lexington KY.